


In Your Name, I Find Meaning

by justafeeling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Murder, Second Chances, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justafeeling/pseuds/justafeeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is offered the chance to save his best friend's life from a strange man claiming to be Harry’s Guardian Angel, Liam. The price: Louis has to give up ten years of his own life in order to change the horrible events of Harry’s murder.  With his second chance, how will he cope with the knowledge that he is reliving events of his past life? Can Louis bend time enough to allow him into saving the one person that means most to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Name, I Find Meaning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by a tumblr prompt that I found while browsing the "lourry" tag. First 1D fic. Hope it's alright. Title is from Lifehouse's Broken. 
> 
> If you have the time, you should give me feedback!

Prologue

He was returning from a trip to the store. It was a simple task of restocking up on rolls of toilet paper. His roommate and best friend had jokingly complained about the flat being empty of necessary supplies, and he had offered to pick some up as a nice gesture. 

As he completes his purchase and exits the store, he has the strangest sensation of being watched. The curly hairs of his nape rise in unseen alarm. He tries to calm down his hyper-vigilant body, thinking paranoid was overtaking his mind. It’s probably nothing to worry about. I will be home soon. 

Rough pair of hands abruptly takes him from behind, groceries that he had been carrying slips out of his grasp. A package of toilet paper falls to the deserted street. The night above them leaves a sinister air with no clouds in sight, and the color of the sky pitch black. No lamps illuminate the scene. He feels like letting out a shocked yell, but he does not see anyone nearby the local supermarket or small parking lot. 

The older man has the younger one with curly brown hair captured as the latter struggles in vain to free himself. Although he is stronger from going to the gym on a regular basis, his assailant has the ultimate advantage. The former pushes the rag that is drenched in chloroform over the resistant man’s mouth, and he never has the chance to alert anyone else of his current attack. The assailant smiles victoriously as the curly haired man’s attempts to escape weaken, lanky arm movements cease after a few minutes of forced inhalation. The effects of chloroform had prompted the man to pass out.

12:25 AM was the last time any soul witnessed Harry Styles as still alive. 

-  
Chapter 1

Louis Tomlinson suddenly blinks his eyes open from the prominent sounds of knocks. It takes several moments more than he would like to go from disoriented to pissed in less than five minutes. He has never been a morning person, but the red lines of his digital clock read 8 AM and he is not sure why someone would demand his attention at this hour. Something in his gut feels off, like he is missing something, like bad news awaits him. Why hasn’t Harry answered the door? Out of the two roommates, Harry would likely be the one with a cheer grin with breakfast and tea made. He shakes himself from his negative thoughts and momentary worry, pulls up his gray sweats and scrambles to the doorway.

“Mr. Tomlinson?”  
“Yes?” Louis answers slowly. He does not understand why there are two policemen outside his front door, one that is losing ginger hair, middle aged and the other in his mid-twenties with dark hair.  
“Good morning. I’m Officer Kenell and this is Officer Moore. Do you live with a Harry Styles?”  
“Yeah, he’s my best mate. What does that have to do with this?”  
The younger man’s face fills with compassion that leaves him rubbing his neck.   
“There is no easy way to say this, but around 6:40 this morning we found a body in the local lake who died from multiple stab wounds. Our scientists have been identified him as Harry Styles.”  
Louis grips the door in desperation, fingers taut, body staggering forward. The frame of the door is the only solid object in his possession. His mind blanks. “No!” he weakly shouts when he’s able to function.   
Officer Kenell holds his arms out. “Lad, it’s alright. I know this may come as a shock to you, but—  
He shakes his head with such force that there is an audible neck crack that can be heard. “It’s not true.” Louis’ adamant about this. There’s no possible way that this has happen. None.   
The older and younger officers share an anxious glance. Their forced calm serves to just compel Louis to push his tan hands to further into his messy, honey fringe, pulling the strands until his scalp screams. The air feels closed in and he can’t seem to take a breath. His lungs aren’t working properly, and he still does not know why.  
“Mr. Tomlinson,” they try again.   
“It’s Louis,” he responds without emotion.  
“Louis, Mr. Styles has passed. Do you understand?” Officer Kenell asked as he places a light arm on his petite shoulders.   
“No, I don’t,” he replies. He doesn’t.   
“Louis…”   
“Hazza!” he counters. Louis is confident that Harry would wake up from his sleep if he called for him. He’s met by silence, but that doesn’t stop him, “Hazzzaaa!! Harry!”   
Both officers’ expressions turn somber. “Mr. Tomlinson,” they attempt.   
Louis finally realizes that Harry’s not answering back. Then, his brain starts saying, maybe he’s not answering because he can’t. Maybe what they’re saying is the truth. Strong hands grab him before his body sinks completely to the floor. 

His best friend’s body has just been found. 

“Is there someone you can call?”   
“Anne!” Louis immediately yells. “I have to call Harry’s mum. She’s going to be devastated.”  
“Alright, you call her. And again, I’m sorry for your loss.” With those last words, the two officers leave his flat. 

Louis shuts his door while his hands are noticeably trembling. This doesn’t feel real. 

“Hello, Louis Tomlinson,” another warmer voice calls out from his couch.


End file.
